Crimson Chrysanthemum
by Neko Oni
Summary: MatsuHitsu. A traitorous, brainwashed Hinamori tries to kill a wounded Hitsugaya. Matsumoto saves him from, but the damage has already been done.
1. in a heartbeat

I just finished reading HP 7! I squeed, wibbled, and sobbed through it. Not exactly what I expected, and I'm a little disappointed that the series is over. But there's still 2 movies left! And I just HAD to write a fic in the HP world.

SUMMARY: AU- set in HP world. She was his strength when he was weak.

PAIRINGS: MatsuHitsu

WARNINGS: Some violence, bloodshed and death (not Matsu or Hitsu!), but nothing of the graphic or extreme, squick type

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Bleach or Harry Potter

NOTES: Instead of Voldemort, Aizen is the evil wizard bent on world takeover/ Muggle and Mudblood killing, etc. And Arrancar Death Eater. Comprende? Oh, and I made Momo and Shiro siblings (it just made things less complicated that way).

Erm, seeing as this is AU and written to get the bug outta my system, it's most likely OOC. So there, you've been warned.

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CRIMSON CHRYSANTHEMUM

By Neko Oni

Hitsugaya's breath came in harsh, ragged pants that tore at his aching lungs. He leaned against the cracked, blood-smeared wall; he was too weak to stand up. Underneath his torn, blood spattered robes, his slender legs shook. The pure white of his velvet, silver trimmed robes was heavily soiled with dirt and blood, most of it his own. Every bone, joint, and muscle in his supple body screamed in agony. His vision was blurred; the scene swam in an out of focus.

He was past his limit, beyond the breaking point. Only sheer force of will kept him up. If he wasn't so stubborn, he would've collapsed long ago. His body couldn't go on. It was giving out on him, crumbling under the weight of his determination. He couldn't even stand on his own. The wall supported his slight weight, and his want kept slipping from his hand. The wood was slippery from sweat and blood; the small hand clutching it trembled.

His vision blurred as his eyelids grew heavy. Hitsugaya blinked, then stared ahead. At her. "Momo…" he mumbled, his voice slurred. His short arm struggled to rise in jerking movements.

Hinamori stood in front of an ancient, heavy wooden door, her wand pointed directly at Hitsugaya. "Shiro-chan, I can't- no, I won't- let you harm Aizen-sama." Her voice wavered, and tears shone in her brown eyes. She pleaded with him to turn around, to go away. But deep down, she knew he wouldn't. So she would defend her master with her dying breath. It was a duty he said he trusted to no one else but her. Because she was special to him. That thought strengthened her resolve.

"Momo…" His words were more breath than voice; he could barely speak. His large turquoise eyes pleaded with her, begged her to stand down. It was that Aizen bastard he wanted. He didn't want to hex her. He didn't know if he had the strength. On a good day, Hitsugaya could take her no problem. Hinamori was a mediocre witch at best, whereas Hitsugaya was one of the brightest wizards of their generation. But after fighting past a horde of Arrancars single-handedly, he was nearly half dead.

Brown eyes stared into brilliant turquoise. Momo bit her lip and tightened her grip on her wand. "Shiro…please…go back. I-I won't let you pass."

Hitsugaya winced in pain, thick, dark lashes fluttering closed for a moment. He gasped, leaning further into the wall and clutched his wounded stomach. Shaking his head, he could only open his eyes halfway this time. The darkness was closing in. He slipped further down the wall. "No….Momo…wand…down….Aizen…evil….murderer... traitor…"

Momo stamped her foot. This was it. The difference that tore two siblings apart. "Don't talk about Aizen-sama like that! He's a visionary! He's going to create a utopia for wizards and witches everywhere! He'll bring about a new world order full of peace and prosperity!" The tip of her wand began to glow.

The dark lashes lowered further and the battered, slender body slipped down the wall some more. Hitsugaya's empty hand clutched at the cracked stone while he struggled to raise his wand arm. He couldn't; he was too exhausted. He wanted to let go, to give into the darkness swirling around him. But he couldn't. Bruised lips twisted in a weak snarl. "A kingdom of…purebloods…built on bones and blood…of-of …innocent Muggles…and Mudbloods…". His tone was meant to be mocking and jeering.

"No!" Hinamori screamed vehemently. Sparks flew from the tip of her wand. "Go away, Shiro! Let me help Aizen-sama, and I'll ensure a place for you in our new world!"

"Momo…you stupid..fool…" His pretty face twisted as he tried to force his wand arm to rise. The short limb jerked twice, then his wand fell from limp, bloody and sweaty fingers to clatter at his feet. His partially open eyes sought hers over the light from her wand. "You're so blind…he's using you- he's evil…he must…die…" Speech was slipping further and further from his darkening grasp. His body was shutting down. He could barely cling to consciousness.

"You're the one whose blind! You don't believe in Aizen-sama! You're a-a blood traitor!" Momo cried in anger. She must defend her master. Aizen-sama came first. Before her. Before Shiro. Her dear Shiro-chan would never see the light. He would forever oppose Aizen-sama. And Aizen-sama did not tolerate opposition.

Her voice softened, low and firm. "I'm sorry, Shiro-chan. I love you, baby brother. But you're in Aizen-sama's way." Momo looked away. She couldn't bare to see his face. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

Nearly closed eyes flew partially open. Hitsugaya gasped softly, clutching his injured stomach. He'd never believe his sweet Momo capable of using… "Momo…"

Tears flowed down her cheeks. She wouldn't look at him, but she winced at his soft, ragged whisper. The tip of her wand glowed green. "_Avada_-"

"_Avada Kedavera!"_

All at once, a group of witches and wizards burst from the spiraling stone staircase behind Hitsugaya. Matsumoto was at the front; a jet of green light flew over Hitsugaya's shoulder and hit Hinamori. The girl crumpled to the ground in a limp, lifeless heap of black robes.

Matsumoto had no time to consider what curse or hex she threw. Soon as she raced to the top of the stairs, she heard Hinamori uttering the killing curse. She only had a split second to react, to save her beloved Shiro-chan's life. Without thinking, she reflexively yelled the same hex as Hinamori. At that instant, all that had mattered to her was saving Toshiro.

Hinamori's body barely hit the floor as Ichigo bounded over the corpse, shattered the door with a spell from his wand, and snarled, "Aizen, you're murdering ass is mine!"

No sooner had Ichigo disappeared in the doorway than the Arrancar chasing them spilled out from the stairwell.

Whirling around in a flutter of pink and brown robes and swish of long, wavy strawberry blonde hair, Matsumoto took a defensive stance in front of Toshiro. She had no time to check on him, for the Arrancar swarmed around them. She hexed any and all she could, especially those that came too close. Her goal was to get Toshiro and her out of this nightmare alive.

Fighting was everywhere in the small tower chamber. The small group of resistance fighters to Aizen's regime had attacked and battled their way through the castle of Los Noches, Aizen's stronghold. They stroke before he could; this was the last, decisive battle. This was the very last battle in the war against Aizen. The group of fighters defeated the castle until all that was left was the uppermost tower.

They were outnumbered ten to one. Curses, hexes and jinxes flew everywhere. Renji jeered and taunted with both mouth and wand; he battled three Arrancar at once. Ikkaku and Yumichika stood back to back, Ikkaku laughing madly, enjoying himself as he flung killing curses left and right. Zaraki's manic laughter drowned out Ikkaku's as he took on seven Arrancar at once. Yoruichi, Soi Fong, and Urahara worked together to handle a higher ranking Arrancar.

Seeing a barely conscious Toshiro, several Arrancar swarmed Matsumoto, who stood protectively over his prone body. She was forced to take several steps backwards as she cast a Shield Charm over herself and Toshiro. They threw curses at her, but she was more than a match for them. With a flick of her wand, she took two of them out with one blow. She parried spell for spell and finished off the third just as a jet of light flew under her raised arm and hit Toshiro. Throwing the killing curse at the Arrancar who got past her defenses and struck her beloved, Matsumoto heard a sickening crack of skull meeting stone, then an unconscious Hitsugaya crumpled to the floor with a dull thud.

Casting another Shield Charm, Matsumoto glanced over her shoulder. And her heart stopped. There was a spatter of blood, white hair, and some flesh where his head cracked off the wall. He lay in a crumpled heap, similar to Hinamori. His robes were torn, dirty and bloody. His white hair was thick and wet with fresh blood that poured out of his split skull and pooled around his head.

Something inside her snapped at the sight. Casting a Shield Charm only over his inert, lifeless body, Matsumoto flung Forbidden Curses left and right. She dueled like a woman gone mad, even cutting into other people's fights. Mostly it was Avada Kedavera she flung about, but several times she used the Cruciatus Curse. All the while, tears streamed down her face and she sobbed. She was out of her mind with grief and rage.

tbc...

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Review, or else Peeves the Poltergeist might come after you. And he's loaded with Dungbombs.


	2. uncertain

Ya know, this is the first angsty piece I've done with Matsu and Hitsu. Well, it's not the first I've written, but it's the first I've put up on I usually do funny, cuddly fluff- sometimes it can be a lil sad, but 'tis always fluffy. But this here is a deviation from that. I've done Shiro angst before, but I've never really explored Matsu much. So here I'm experimenting with a different side of her.

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"Why? Why couldn't you have waited for the rest of us? You took off too soon- and look what happened! You just had to chase that stupid cunt-" Matsumoto wiped at her eyes with her long, loose sleeves futilely. More tears streamed down her soggy face. Her once-luxurious hair was tangled and matted. Her makeup was washed away by her tears, and her pink and brown witch robes were torn, stained, and askew.

Hitsugaya lay pale and unmoving in the hospital bed at St. Mungo's. He looked like a little ghost swathed in white sheets and bandages. His smooth skin was a shade paler than the stark white linen. It was as if he was fading before her blood-shot eyes.

Matsumoto sat in a chair by the head of the bed. Hitsugaya's head was wrapped in a thick layer of bandages. She clutched his limp, slender hand in both of hers. It felt soft, small, and fragile, like a butterfly with broken wings. The only sound in the dim room was her heart broken sobs.

The door creaked open. "Hey, I brought you some Butterbeer." At her nod, Renji sat the glass down on the table by Hitsugaya's bed, then leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Still no change?"

Matsumoto's hands tightened on Hitsugaya's as she shook her head. "His skull's been fused back together for hours now, yet he still hasn't woken up. The Healers think he might've slipped into a coma…they don't know if he'll ever wake up."

Renji sighed heavily. "And the brain damage?"

Matsumoto flinched. "They can't be certain of the extent until he wakes." Her voice was flat and dead.

"At least he's alive. That's more than I can say for Rukia." Renji closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against the lids.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Her words were hollow. She did care for Renji and wanted to be sympathetic for him, but all she could feel right now was worry for Hitsugaya. She was consumed with fear and concern. Hitsugaya was her world, and he was broken.

Renji glanced at the listless Hitsugaya. "And I'm sorry for yours." His words, too, were hollow. Rukia had been his world, and now she was gone. Silence fell heavy upon them.

"He's…I don't care what he's like. I'll never leave him." She suddenly whispered vehemently, clutching his limp, small hand tightly. Hitsugaya showed no reaction at all.

Silence fell again for several more heartbeats, each lost in their own grief. Finally, Renji roused himself from his memories of Rukia to remember what he came here to tell Matsumoto. "The Wizengamont ruled on Hinamori today." Her shoulders stiffened and she inhaled sharply. He stared unblinkingly at the back of her head. "Given the evidence, it was decided she was not Imperiused. She acted of her own free will. So you didn't kill an innocent."

Matsumoto's face scrunched. "Small comfort. I still couldn't save Shiro-chan." Her shoulders shook.

"You kept him alive. You fought seven Arrancar at once to defend him. You were more fierce than Zaraki."

She shook her head. She appreciated Renji's consolation, but that couldn't help the lifeless little ragdoll in the bed. "It still wasn't enough. If he ever wakes up, who knows what quality of life he'll have? His brain- bits of it were smeared on the wall." She paused and shuddered. "My Toshiro is dead- who knows what's left in the pretty shell?"

"Ran-chan…" Renji laid a large hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He didn't know if he would have been able to cope with a brain damaged Rukia. Physically, she'd look the same, but she'd never be the same, mentally. It would be as if someone else, a stranger, inhabited her body. He couldn't even picture a mentally handicapped Rukia.

Matsumoto grew quiet and silent for several moments. When she did speak, her voice was soft. She was thinking along the same lines as Renji. "Maybe…maybe he'd be better off dead."

Tbc….

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Will Matsumoto, still wracked with grief and worry, pull a Dr. Kevorkian and kill Shiro-chan? Should I leave Shiro in a coma? If he does wake, what will he be like?

A review would be nice.


	3. flutter

Guess what? For once, I actually did some research for a fic! O Woot! Go me! is proud of herself

Okay, okay, so all I did was consult wikipedia- but that still counts! Anyway, here's some stuff that'll help you understand the next couple of chapters better.

Remember, last chappie, Shiro got his head whacked off the wall and his skull split open. That's called Traumatic Brain Injury, or TBI. People who suffer from a TBI can end up with a wide range of physical and mental handicaps, from seizures to loss of coordination, to personality change. It all depends on where they got hit, the severity of the injury, and other lovely technical stuff that wiki describes. I'm sticking to the basics here. Hey, at least I bothered to look it up.

Cuz I didn't wanna make this an excessively long, novel-length fic, I only chose a few that are related in one way or another to inflict upon poor Shiro-chan. His disabilites are all cognitive- he's easily confused, distracted, and has problems with memory, concentration, and attention. Here's a quote from wiki: " The most common cognitive impairment among severely head-injured patients is memory loss, characterized by some loss of specific memories and the partial inability to form or store new ones."

Keep this in mind, cuz in the fic, I attempted to show, not tell, Shiro's problems. So if ya get confused, refer back to this.

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"Maybe…maybe he'd be better off dead. What kind of life is he going to have? How badly is his mind damaged?"

All the hours alone in the dim, quiet room with the listless Hitsugaya gave Matsumoto plenty of time to grapple with the many possibilities. The brain was the main control center for the body. It governed everything from basic functions, such as breathing, to thought and motor functions, such as talking and walking. When this wonderful, complex organ was damaged, any results were possible.

There could be speech impediments- maybe Hitsugaya would end up garbling nonsensical words and drooling. There could be loss of motor skills- maybe he'd loose function or control of some part of his body. There could be cognitive problems- maybe he'd loose his ability to remember or pay attention, become easily confused, and his personality could change.

Renji stared at her, eyes wide in shock. It was one thing to think it, but to say it out loud? "How can you say that?!" This wasn't the Rangiku he knew. She was a fighter. All through out the long, bloody rebellion against Aizen, she'd never lost faith. Not even when she had to kill her cousin, Ichimaru. But this…it was like her heart had been ripped from her chest.

"What if it was Rukia?" Her voice was thick with emotion.

Renji bit his tongue and looked away, eyes flicking to Hitsugaya. Ran-chan's heart had been torn out, and it lay there nearly lifeless on the bed. After a lengthy pause, he said, "I'd devote my life to caring for her. I wouldn't wish her dead."

Matsumoto flinched, feeling like she'd betrayed Hitsugaya. She raised his slender hand and kissed the cold knuckles. "I'm sorry, Shiro-chan." She couldn't say she didn't mean wishing him dead; because, at that moment, she had. But she regretted it now.

Neither visitor spoke for a long time. Matsumoto stared at the comatose boy, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb and Renji stared at the wall. At length, finally, the tattooed wizard spoke. "What are you going to tell him about Hinamori?"

Matsumoto shrugged- she hadn't been able to think that far ahead. At this particular moment, she really didn't care. All that mattered was seeing Shiro's large, pretty eyes open. "Unohana, the head Healer, said his brain was so damaged, it was doubtful he'd remember much of anything. But no matter what, I'll never tell him his sister tried to kill him."

"And of her love for Aizen?"

She shrugged again. Those answers, those possibilities and problems, were so far down the road at this point that she couldn't even think of them. What mattered right now was Hitsugaya coming back to her. "I won't cause Shiro more pain. He's too fragile. I'll say she died for Aizen's cause. She doesn't deserve to be remembered like that, but I won't have Shiro hurt."

"I was friends with Momo. We went to Hogwarts together. And Kira, too. We used to eat lunch in the Great Hall and spend weekends in Hogsmeade. Who knew they'd side with Aizen?"

Matsumoto stroked the small, slender fingers. "At the start of the war, when I killed Gin, I thought that was the most painful day in my life…but seeing Shiro lying there, lifeless in a puddle of his own blood…something in me broke. It cracked with Gin's death…but Shiro's…" She squeezed the limp fingers, shook her head, and wiped at her eyes.

She forced a little, rough, bitter laugh. "And the war's over. We're all free again. We're supposed to be happy. But how can I possibly celebrate?" She looked sadly at the unconscious wizard in the bed.

Renji followed her blue gaze. If it wasn't for the soft, shallow rise and fall of the thin chest, Hitsugaya could have easily been a pale, delicate corpse. Like Rukia. His heart twisted in his chest and he looked away. "I miss Rukia." He closed his eyes. "Be glad you have the chance, no matter how slight, that Shiro might come back to you." He whispered then left the room without looking at Matsumoto or Hitsugaya.

"Oh, Shiro." She whispered brokenly, voice thick with unshed tears. "I'd kill her a thousand times over if it would bring you back."

Throughout the conversation, neither witch nor wizard noticed the teal slits on Hitsugaya's pale face. Now the large eyes were nearly open and staring vacantly at the ceiling. Matsumoto paid no attention. Her head was bowed, tears splashing onto his small, limp hand. Only at his soft moan did she look up and see his open eyes for the first time.

She gasped, her heart skipping a beat. She stared in shock for several seconds, then her face lit up in joy. "Shiro-chan!" She squealed, squeezing his smaller hand tightly. He was a wan, limp little ragdoll, but never had he looked more beautiful to her.

Hitsugaya turned his head to the side and stared at her with vacant eyes. "Who are you?"

Tbc…

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Oh, that's a nasty place to leave off….and Renji's SO OOC. . Chalk it up to him grieving over Rukia. They were either best friends or lovers, take your pick.


	4. to see her smile

Here's a look in Shiro's pretty lil head, exploring what his scattered mind's like.

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(A Month Later)

Dark lashes fluttered open. Hitsguaya awoke to the same sight he always did. White walls, white ceiling, and a flowing mass of strawberry blonde hair. It-she- was the only shock of color in the pristine room. Her hair hung in thick, long, and luxurious waves about her voluptuous body and glinted gold and copper in the light. He loved to fall asleep with a hunk of it clutched in his slender fingers.

Much else besides her hair he didn't know or understand. He understood what was said to him and things explained to him, but he could never remember any of it. Like her name. He'd been told it countless times, but could never recall it. She was a nameless entity to him, except for her hair.

But the pretty, sad witch had to have a name. He could taste it on the tip of his tongue. It fluttered around the edges of his mind, teasing and taunting him. It was there, but he couldn't grasp it; it danced just beyond his mental fingertips. He heard her name uttered all day, every day. Yet he couldn't remember.

Hitsugaya knew her, though. He didn't know how, but he felt her in his heart. She was the only thing he knew, even if he couldn't name her. She came to see him everyday and spent hours at his bedside. She slept most of the time and her appearance was usually a mess.

Under the tangled hair, mismatched, wrinkled robes and worn face, he was sure she was quite beautiful. Her breasts certainly were. She loved to hold him close, his head pillowed on those monstrous mounds of silky flesh. That's when his hand fisted in her dangling, knotted hair and he fell asleep as she muttered angrily about things and people he didn't understand. Other times, she clutched him to her and just cried. Those were the times he hated- he wanted to right whatever was wrong. He wanted to see her smile- he bet she was stunningly gorgeous when she smiled.

But she never did. She radiated sorrow like a mournful ghost. Something was killing her heart and spirit, and he sensed that it was his fault. The last time he'd tried to apologize for it, she'd burst into tears, crying with her face buried in his lap while he stroked her hair in bewilderment, untangling the knots with his slim fingers. He didn't know why she was so sad- and she would never answer him- but he hated it. He wanted her to be happy; he'd do anything to see her smile. He just didn't know what to do.

Even more confusing was his own sadness. His heart hurt, as if someone important in his life was missing. He didn't know who or what, though. It was very confusing and frustrating to be in pain and not know why. Sometimes, when he was alone, he'd cry for no reason. He couldn't stop it and he couldn't understand it. Someone important was gone and he wanted them back, but he didn't even know the person.

He knew this all was a result of the Bad Thing that happened to him. No one- certainly not the red-haired woman, or any of the Healers- would tell him anything. They were very careful what they said around him. He knew he was a wizard, and the woman with the flowing, wavy hair and gigantic boobs was a witch, but that was the extent of his knowledge.

The witch often performed small, simple spells to delight and amuse him, trying to get him to smile. But he couldn't smile because she never did. From the things she mumbled when she cried, he knew he'd been hurt by a Bad Spell, but even that was hard to remember.

She tried to teach him spells, but he could never remember the words. When she told him what to say, he could repeat the incantation for a moment or two, while it was fresh, but a minute later the word was gone from his mind. His befuddled brain couldn't retain it. He couldn't do magic anymore- his brain couldn't remember instructions.

But he never gave up. When he performed a small spell, a light of hope shone in her cornflower blue eyes. Maybe if he kept it up- if he actually remembered a spell- then he'd see her smile. She would show him a simple, basic spell then he would imitate her. He'd repeat her words and use her wand. His own was locked away- as a patient, he wasn't allowed to have one. He practiced with her every chance he got- eventually he was bound to remember something, sometime. Her name would be nice.

Tbc…

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	5. her name

Out of this fic, I think chapter 4 so far has been my best written chapter, though it was sad. Poor lil Shiro-chan. I've put him through so much in this, haven't I?

Well, this chappie should make ya feel better- for once, it's a happy one. It's all sweet and fluffy, though it starts off a little sad.

And, as always, a huge thank you to you lovely reviewers!

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Matsumoto was asleep, slumped over in her chair next to the head of Hitsugaya's bed. Her head was a comfortable weight on his chest as he fingered her wild gold and copper hair that spilled all over the place in tangled waves.

Hitsugaya was bored; he wanted to practice what little bit of magic Matsumoto allowed him to do, but he needed her supervision and guidance. He nudged her gently, trying to wake her up. She snored in response. He frowned and tugged on her hair; she only grunted into the blanket covering his chest. He tugged harder, but that only caused her to turn her head. He didn't want to yank any harder because he didn't want to hurt her, so he sat up, leaned forward, and kissed her on the forehead. She snored again.

Hitsugaya sighed. He didn't know how to wake her up. "Hey, you-" He stopped and bit his soft lower lip. He didn't know her name, and he didn't want to keep calling her 'hey you' forever. Frustrated, he smacked her head and she growled, her low voice rumbling through his chest. "C'mon, wake up!" He pulled her hair again and was rewarded with a wince, but her eyes stayed closed. "Oi, get up, M-"

He had it! Her name was there, in his mind, for the briefest second. In a flash, before it could travel from his damaged brain to his tongue, it was gone again. He groped for it with all the strength in him he had. He knew it began with an 'M'. Now all he needed was the rest of her name.

Hitsugaya's face scrunched up cutely in concentration. Minamino? No. Musashi? Nope.

Madarame? Uh-uh. Mayuri? No. Matsumoto? No-yes. Maybe. He paused, his train of thought getting confused and going hazy. He was going to loose it; he could feel it fading, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to it. The last name in his line of thought felt very familiar. That was her name…but what was the word again?

His small hands fisted in the bed sheets and he felt frustrated tears burn his eyes. He had her name, and he lost it. All this time, he'd been trying so hard to learn it, to remember it, and when he finally recalled it, it was gone again in the blink of an eye. Why couldn't he keep it in his head?

Even that loud, obnoxious man with the long, red pony tail remembered her name. The red-haired man came to visit occasionally. The man was annoying, noisy, rude, and said her name at least a thousand times. But what did he call her? Hitsugaya clenched his eyes tight shut, but the hot tears leaked out anyway. "Ran-chan!" He yelled in annoyed anger, pounding his small fists on the sheets.

The name burst from his lips without thought, echoing throughout the silent hospital room. Matsumoto jerked, head popping up and looking around wildly. Hitsugaya stared at her in shock at his own actions, angry tears lingering in his large turquoise eyes. She had heard someone call her name, but the only other person in the room was….

Her blue eyes shot wide open as she stared at Hitsugaya. "Sh-shiro?"

He stared back at Matsumoto, still just realizing what he'd done. Then a grin slowly broke out. "Ran-chan."

She smiled, too, that word lighting her insides. She just stared at him in happy shock, ears not quite believing what they had heard. She nodded her head, encouraging him to repeat it. "Ran-chan." Her grin grew; the sound of her name on his lips filled her with wonder and disbelief.

Suddenly, Matsumoto squealed with excitement and unbridled joy and she glomped Hitsugaya. He was glad he was sitting up so his face was not smashed into her huge breasts. He buried his face in her shoulder; her joy bubbled over into his own and he couldn't suppress his smile.

Hitsugaya was elated. After months, he remembered her name, and because of that, she was smiling. It was the first time he saw her smile, the first time he had ever seen her truly happy. He was right- she was absolutely beautiful when she smiled.

Matsumoto held his slender body tightly. His physical wounds had long healed, but his brain was permanently damaged. Yet, he remembered her name. She held him tighter. "Shiro-chan! You remembered! Oh, say it again!"

"Ran-chan."

The word made her shudder in happiness. "I need to hear you say it again."

"Ran-chan." Hitsugaya, too, couldn't repress his joy, though he was more restrained than her. This gave him hope; maybe, just maybe, he would get better afterall.

Matsumoto made him repeat her name several more times. The sorrow and heart ache she and Hitsugaya had endured was washed away in this moment, in this small miracle. She would never tire of hearing him say her name. "Good job, Shiro. Good job." She clutched him to her and buried her face in his thick, soft hair.

Feeling her voluptuous body shiver slightly, Hitsguaya frowned, his joy immediately vanishing. Was Matsumoto crying again? She always held him like this when she cried, but he couldn't feel her tears falling on his face. Worried, he pulled back and gazed up at her. She was still smiling, although it faltered at his frown. "Shiro-chan, what's wrong?"

Hitsugaya shook his head and smiled up at her again. "Nothing; you're still happy." Matsumoto smiled, too, but kept a worried eye on him as she hugged him again, crushing his tender ribs. He grunted and she eased up- she didn't know her own strength sometimes.

Hitsugaya reached up and framed her face with both dainty hands. "Ran-chan." He said her name softly and she lowered her face to his. Bright turquoise eyes met sky blue ones. "I think…" he said softly, pert little nose scrunching up, "I love you."

Tbc…

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After this, we've got only a couple more chappies left, and that leaves room for Hitsugaya to improve….or get worse.

Review. You know you want to.


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